There is a Goodwill Superstore right by our church, and every Sunday we stop in to check out a few important sections. David heads to the board games; I check out the Target housewares and look in the stationery section for Creative Memories stuff; and Quinland… actually, Q would rather be left in the car, so he comes in reluctantly (and I am not even sure where he goes first). He drags his feet and whines, “Why are we here? We don’t need more stuff!”
He is right, of course. We don’t need it. Our house is filled and overfilled with board games and housewares and scrapbooking supplies. But we have a habit, a rut we can’t get out of, an addiction to the thrill of the bargain find. So we find ourselves heading through those doors with our blue cart, again and again.
I try to rationalize it: I will only get things we need. Light bulbs. Clothes hangers. A bathroom scale. Curtains. These are all things I have purchased at Goodwill lately, and they are all things we needed and will use. But – worst of all – I get sucked into the book section every. single. time… and I can never seem to get out empty-handed.
My loot today: a Louisa May Alcott anthology (of her adult writings! I had never seen it!), some pre-WWII copies of Eight Cousins and Rose in Bloom (I don’t have that edition of those!), a book on re-wiring lamps (a task I need to do!), a January 1947 Sunset magazine (wow, what cool ads!), and – oh, the irony – another book on organizing. One, in fact, that I have previously owned (and previously donated to Goodwill myself, essentially unread).
Don’t worry, though – this is the new expanded edition! I’m sure it’s guaranteed to get me that much more organized (at which time it, too, will go back to its home away from home… and mine).